


Footrace

by Madoking



Series: Together, but only if you let me. [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Family, Forgiveness, Nikolaos just doesn't really know how to dad yet, Protective Siblings, Seeking forgiveness, Siblings, Siblings getting to know each other, Stentors a little bitch but Kass sets him straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madoking/pseuds/Madoking
Summary: "I won’t let you think you’re not worthy of forgiveness, just as I won’t let you be forced into forgiving. You’re on your own timeline. You never have to be Nikolaos’ son, just as you never have to be Stentor’s brother. It is a choice, Alexios."Nikolaos wants to bond as a family. Kass: yes. Alexios: no. Stentor: maybe.





	Footrace

“Good news!” boomed Nikolaos as he entered the front door of the house. He looked around the room, checking to see attendance. Only Kassandra and Alexios were there, sharing a loaf of bread that Alexios had baked that morning. The siblings looked at each other, each pleading with the other to answer. 

Kassandra relented. “What news?”

Nikolaos, still fragile around the two of them, looked hopefully into the corners of the room for a more neutral party with which to share his tidings. Seeing no one else, he sighed. 

“Ah, I’m going to be one of the judges for the new Olympic champion. I’ll be providing comments on the footrace part of the selection.” Knowing that this wouldn’t be especially impressive to the two of them, he spoke quickly, hoping to be able to leave and tell Stentor. Kassandra knew this, and, hoping to bridge some kind of gap between the three of them, made her face light up in excitement for him. 

“Oh, that’s really great! Can we come and watch the footrace?” She could feel Alexios’ glower on her. 

Nikolaos, surprised by her enthusiasm, latched on to her gift. “Oh yes! You’re both welcome! With you being an Olympic champion yourself, Kassandra!”

“What?” said Alexios. “You were in the Olympics? They don’t let women into the Olympics!”

“They did when they had no other choice,” said Kassandra dismissively. “I fed their man-champion to the sharks.”

“You did not!”

“I did too! He tried to hug me and so sharks ate him.”

“There is just … no way that’s true. Nikolaos, tell her that that’s not true.”

Nikolaos had ceased listening. He was scribbling down some details on a piece of cloth. “Here are the details of the footrace,” he said. “Could one of you tell Stentor about it?”

Kassandra nodded. “Yes, Pater.” 

“And Alexios, she did feed Testikles to the sharks. I wish I could have been there to see it.”

He turned and left them to the room. 

Alexios shifted to reach the water judge that sat between them, and poured himself a mug. After he finished, he poured himself another.  
“It’s nice to have fresh water,” he said. “The only water around growing up was brackish. Chrysis would sometimes make me drink swamp water, but only after I hadn’t had water for days. I never got sick from it, they needed me healthy, but I hated the taste and the thickness of it.”

Kassandra had stopped chewing halfway through his speech. She knew that these anecdotes were his way of healing, but they still caught her off guard. So easy, and so chilling, the way he spoke of the time before. The normalcy was what shocked her, more than the acts. He hadn’t known any differently. 

She cleared her throat, worried that too long a break in the conversation would dampen his resolve to share his thoughts. 

“I once drank sea water on a dare. I had to drink it, and not throw up for ten minutes. I won hard earned drachme that day,” she said. 

“Was that on Kephalonia?”

“Yes. Good thing I was right near Marcus who chased the boys away, but only after I’d received my money. They dared me to hunt a wolf next, but Marcus didn’t let me do it.”

“Do you think you could have killed the wolf? I sometimes used to be forced to go and hunt large predators. I brought down a bear once. I thought it was fun at the time, now I prefer to bake bread, I think.”

“Gods, Alexios. How old were you when you brought down a bear?”

“Maybe around sixteen? I was killing men by then; bears were easier.”

Sixteen. A man. No, a child. Just a child. He wouldn’t have been out of Mater’s house, by that age. 

Kassandra stood up, and looked at the cloth Nikolaos had written on. 

“We best get this to Stentor. He’s on the northern grounds. The judging starts in only a few hours.”

“Do we really have to go?” Alexios said, collecting the crumbs that had landed on the floor. 

“Yes we do. We said we were, so we are.”

“You said you were, I stayed in happy silence.”

Kassandra grumbled and put some furs around her shoulders. The breeze was chilly, and the northern training grounds were in the mountains. She left the house to go and kit up Phobos. She didn’t particularly want to be going walking pace when people asked her invasive questions. Alexios followed her out of the house.

“I’m sure mater won’t mind you using her horse, Alexios; it’s not a long errand.”

\----

When they reached the northern training grounds, a cacophony of sounds met them. Grunts, clashes, the sound of metal meeting, the grinding of stones. Spread out before them was a camp full of children, hard at work. Boys, only, with no furs to keep them warm, or armour to protect them from their opponent’s jabs. Kassandra reviewed them with a mixing of pity and pride. These were the boys that were built into soldiers. These were the boys that became men like Brasidas. But they were, still, only boys. 

Alexios had no such mixed emotion. What he saw was brutality where children should be standing. This was one reason he was less than fond of Stentor and Nikolaos, outside of the pride. 

They rode along the ridge and down the road into the camp. The guards at the gate greeted them and, seeing that they had neither weapons nor armour, waved them through. 

‘Where is Stentor?” asked Alexios to the one closest to him.

“The General is in the main tent; he is not expecting you,” the man replied. 

“No, he never does,” Kassandra said flippantly. 

They left their horses at the stable gate, and walked through the camp. Kassandra was grateful for her furs, and brought them around her more tightly. Though not married, she was still eligible. The eyes of the soldiers followed her as they walked. _Brave_ , she thought, _I could slice them from navel to nose._

They waited at the tent’s entrance for the guard to announce them. Kassandra turned to Alexios. “Remember,” she said. “You aren’t at full strength and can’t take him in a brawl. Keep your mouth shut.”

“Why would I incite a fight with him with so many reds around?” he answered. “But … you are at your full strength, and could definitely take him.”

Kassandra grimaced at him, as the guard returned to the door of the tent and waved them in. 

“Step brother”, she started. Stentor was standing over a table of maps, with five or six men flanking him. He seemed dishevelled.

“Yes, Kassandra? What do you and your brother want?”

“Hey, I’m standing right here.” Alexios said, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“I know you are,” Stentor said, eyes still on Kassandra. “I just don’t wish to acknowledge it.”

Before Alexios could escalate the exchange, which no doubt would finely escalate by itself without his help, Kassandra produced the cloth which Nikolaos had written on. 

“Pater is judging in the Olympic selection for the footrace. He asked us to come along and watch it. Here, these are the details.”

She passed him the cloth. He looked at it, and grumbled slightly. 

“He must be very pleased that he was selected. He’s been so bored since he returned to Sparta,” Stentor said. 

“He was really pleased. He seemed disappointed that he couldn’t tell you the news in person. He had to settle for telling,” Kassandra shot Alexios an apologetic look, “for telling, well, us.”

“I will be there,” Stentor said, handing the cloth back to Kassandra. 

After they were out of the camp, and back on their horses, Alexios rounded on Kassandra. “Why do you feel the need to temper everyone?” he said. “Stentor is an arse and your precious _pater_ threw you off a damned cliff.”

“I know that,” she said, nostrils flaring slightly. “But if I don’t make an effort, they might not, and all of this searching and digging would have been for naught.”

“But they aren’t making an effort. They don’t deserve your compassion, or your words.”

“Funny,” she said, temper lashing. “They might say the same thing about you.” She turned into her saddle, and whispered a command to Phobos. With a light hand, the horse began to speed down the hill, and away from Alexios. 

Of course she knew what the past held. Of course she knew. But if she punished everyone for their past ills, she’d have no one left. Everyone she currently held dear was either dead, having been killed by her brother, or in Lakonia. 

And she would be damned if she let the rot of anger expire her. 

She returned to her home to change into warmer clothes. She wanted her shoulders covered. Would it be too much to fit a few of her leathers? Just to remind the locals that she wasn’t up for grabs?

Maybe. 

She fitted her mercenary harness, and strapped her knife to her back. Not confrontational, just a reminder. She placed her red cape around her shoulders and clasped it shut with a golden pin. Shaped like Medusa’s head, it was a gift from Barnabas after their stint in Lesbos. 

_Wear it like a shield_ , he’d said. _But remember what created Medusa in the first place._

Athena was the easy answer; the tyranny of men was the other answer. 

She sighed, and made her way to the arena. 

\-----

The stands were full when she got there, but she wanted to ensure Nikolaos could glimpse at least one of his children in attendance. She made her way around the side, towards the judge’s bench, and near the finishing line. Her father was sitting at the centre of the table, speaking to the other judges, and looking down the field to the competitors. She waved, and caught his eye. His smile broke his face almost in two, and he tapped one of the other judges on the shoulder and pointed her out to him. Waving again, she pointed to the top of the stands to indicate where she would be. He nodded in response. 

That task completed, she walked round to the back so as to reduce her visibility. 

The race had begun, with Sparta’s fastest running against each other to the cheers of the crowd. Kassandra barely watched, knowing that she could beat them all, and had. 

“Glad you could come, too.” Stentor stood beside her, wearing civilian clothing. “And glad to see you dressed up for the occasion.”

“People were getting touchy,” she replied. “Does he know you’re here?”

“Not yet. I’ll see him afterwards. Kassandra, I was never able to thank you for bringing him back to me. I … at first I thought him dead at your hand but … but now I know you love him as I do.” Stentor waited, searching for words. “I always wanted a family. I guess I just didn’t actually think about what that would look like.”

“It’s okay, Stentor,” she said quietly. Now she knew why he came in civilian clothing: this softness was unbecoming of a Spartan General. “I don’t know if anyone could possibly love him as you do. But I promise to try.” 

She turned to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Slightly shorter than her, he still looked incredibly prideful. 

“Please be kinder to my brother. He’s yours now too.”

Stentor took in her hand on his shoulder, her height, and her words to insinuate the mild threat emanating from her. Not all quiet speech need be warm. 

“Then he can be kinder to pa-” he began. Kassandra’s hand began squeezing his shoulder to cut off his words.

“No,” she said slowly, deliberately. “He doesn’t need to be kind to the man who sentenced him to death. Hell, he doesn’t even need to be kind to you. Consider this how you will, but mark these words as they’re said, and not in any other way.”

She released him, and turned towards the now finishing race. Clapping and cheering, she pointed out some of the athletes to a still shaken Stentor, finishing the exchange. 

_All that it takes to set a little precedent, is a small, affirming talk_ , she thought. 

Kassandra made her way back to the house, meandering into the forest between their home and the arena. She sincerely hoped that Stentor would take her _advice_ without bringing anyone else into it, namely Nikolaos. 

When she got home, she found Alexios carving a small figure on the doorstep.

“You didn’t make it to the footrace?” she asked. 

He shook his head and sighed. 

“I don’t understand you,” he said. “You have a balance between compassion for good intentions, but a rejection of poor acts. You seem to forgive heinous things, while pursuing a shop-keeper for handing out the wrong change.”

Kassandra dismounted, and started rubbing down Phobos. “I don’t forgive heinous acts as easily as you may think, little brother. I forgave you, not just because you were my brother, but because you wanted to do better. You aren’t the same man that … that killed Brasidas or Perikles. You’re different, and you’re growing.”

After she had lead Phobos to the grove next to the house, she knelt down in front of her brother, and looked at the figure he was carving. It looked to be a small horse.

“I won’t let you think you’re not worthy of forgiveness, just as I won’t let you be forced into forgiving. You’re on your own timeline. You never have to be Nikolaos’ son, just as you never have to be Stentor’s brother. You could wholly reject them if you choose to. And it is a choice, Alexios.”

He looked up then, tears in his eyes. She touched his chin lightly, feeling the ghost of an old scar. She might have given it to him. 

“And I don’t think Stentor will be bothering you anymore, little brother.”

“Why, did you murder him?” he laughed. 

“Almost,'' she replied.


End file.
